


Kind Hands

by Al_D_Baran



Series: FrUk Spring Festival 2016 [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Fluff and Smut, FrUK Spring Festival 2k16, Mermaid France, Mermaids, Not Beta Read, Smut, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:26:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6831484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Al_D_Baran/pseuds/Al_D_Baran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young boy meets a fabled beauty of the sea, never expecting to meet her again…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kind Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Aight, here we are for another… FrUk… event… thing. We all know how good I am at events. Like. Posting everydays. Not giving up when one works a bit less than the last one. Oh dear. We sure are in trouble.
> 
> Do you know how much I fucking love pirates? I usually try to stray away from what I feel will be the most used trope, but I give about 0 fucks for pirates. I LOVE THEM OKAY.
> 
> Also there’s fem!France because murmaid hair on her naked tiddies. I also love titties ok.

     As long as he remembered, he had wanted to be a nomad.

Something had always thrummed in Arthur’s veins, forcing him to advance.

Forward, forward, forward.

There would always be more road to cover, more things to explore. He would never be able to sit down, always imagining another adventure, following his gruff older brother even if the man growled about it – yet, he was only one able to follow him, even as chubby-cheeked as he was. Their parents mourned the state of his boots each seasons passing.

After a moment, he had learned to sew them back by himself.

After a few years, their father had accepted that only his boisterous elder would take back the family forge.

Arthur yearned for adventures and nor hammer nor wife would keep him on this tiny island.

.

.

.

The angry noon sun made the waves shine so brightly Arthur needed to put his hand up, like a visor, to shield his eyes from it. Looking up ever so often to make sure he wouldn’t step in the shattered glass of a bottle, thrown there by drunk fishermen, Arthur picked up any interesting shells only to throw them back away, running after any crawfish that ventured on the sandy beach. He never managed to catch any of them, but at least, he tried without fail.

He would have wished to offer a few of them to his mother, trapping them in the wooden bucket he had found along the road. Each time he ran off, Arthur knew that he was making the poor woman sick with worry. It was a meagre apology but when he did, she softened in her scolding and always told his father to not be too harsh on him. Even if he was only twelve, Arthur was mature beyond his years and he knew if there was offense, there ought to be an apology where and it was due. At least, he wasn’t a gruff brute like his older brother, who never even looked at their mother when he made her cry.

As he was about to walk past a large rock, Arthur stopped dead in his tracks, hiding behind it as he heard voices. This beach was usually empty at this time of the day – and day, it was _Sunday_ , a day where no fishermen worked, especially to this fishless bay. The men sounded drunk, a sound he had learned to fear due to his father’s love of the bottle – and drunk fishermen once they saw his mother walking with him on the market, with their crude, disgusting words –, looking at the three men with apprehension as he peaked from behind safety.

Arthur looked carefully over his rocky hideout, curious to see what made these men so excited and once he saw it, he had to hold back a cry of surprise.

Trapped inside a fishing net was a beautiful mermaid, just like in the legends. She was real, breathing, _fighting_ as the men tried to hold her down as she spun and fought, only managing to tangle herself further in the messy net. Her skin was pale enough to clash against the white sand she laid on, her hair a beautiful, golden blond. _Just like in the legends_ , he thought, unable to take her eyes off her, frowning as the men stepped in to touch her, as if to make sure she was real, making her let out a shrill sound.

“A fucken siren!” one of them yelled, earning a glare from the creature as she fought still, her vain attempts to free herself growing weaker with each movements.

She made a raspy sound of protest as one of them tried to lift her up, using the man’s difficulty to hit him with her agile tail, sending him toppling almost a meter away. Arthur gasped, completely hypnotized by the creature’s strength.

“Fucking bitch!”

The man she had hit stood up almost immeditaly, alcohol numbing a broken nose as he ran over to kick her in the ribs. Listening only to his courage, Arthur almost ran over, stopping when one of the men kept both his friends from attacking the creature.

“You fucking idiots! Don’t hurt her… she’d make a good price.”

“Y’wanna sell that? Who’d buy her?” grunted the last man, who wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve, spitting on the ground next to the mermaid.

“We’d get a good price from some perverted Lord if she’s in a good state, idiot. C’mon, let’s go see if our local Lord wants to have some fish for a mistress.”

The three men laughed, even more amused at the way she shrilled at them, confused both by the way they spoke, unable to understand them and effectively trapped, unable to free herself from her tight bounds.

“See? Now let’s get a carriage so we can get this heavy bitch outta here.”

Arthur hid as they walked close to him, watching the men with burning eyes. Adults were disgusting and these men were just like those he had seen at the market. Biting his lower lip, Arthur pulled himself away from the rock, forgetting all about pleasing his mother and catching crawfishes. Even if he was scared, Arthur bravely stepped closer, holding his bucket tightly, as if he could use it as a weapon in case the creature was going to attack him – after all, she was strong enough to send a man flying. Turning around to make sure no one was coming back, the boy walked closer and closer, until he was just a step away.

Now he could see her, even if most of her was hidden by a layer of impossibly long, tangled blonde hair, clinging to her forehead and cheeks with sweat, even as her lips were cracked from dehydration, the rest of her skin looked dry, especially her long, slender turquoise tail. It looked as dry as the sand she rested on. Her eyes turned to his, almost entirely blue, cat-like, her pupils tightening to see him as the sun shone behind him. Tiny blue scales covered her cheekbones, widening until they reached her fin-like ears, looking almost elven in appearance.

Her golden jewelry shone under the sun, bracelets and necklaces, intricate rings held together by chains… she looked like royalty and he stood there, shoeless, mouth open wide.

Arthur’s heart hammered in his chest, both from fear and… something he didn’t quite understand yet, akin to admiration and affection. Confused, the boy looked at her, unsure of where to look at. He had never seen a naked woman before and shyly, he stared at her stomach, noticing with a warmth in his stomach, the way her flat belly showed lean, muscular muscles each time she breathed hard.

The poor creature was covered in ropes burns and bruises from the men’s rough-handling, and Arthur understood… she was scared and in pain and he stood there like a brainless kelp, looking at her like she wasn’t breathing right there, right in front of him. He kneeled, trying to help her by untying the knots of the nest, only to pull away quickly,  her clawed, finned hand only missing him by an inch.

“I’m trying to help you!” he protested, only answered by a weak growl, the siren’s hand falling next to her.

Arthur considered leaving – she was too aggressive. Would she understand he was trying to help at all? Arthur didn’t knew and he didn’t feel like becoming minced meat. And yet… she was weak and scared, laying there, helpless, trapped by the nets… Arthur lowered himself again. The mermaid was too weak to fight anymore, heaving hard on the sands as the boy tried to loosen the tight knots enough to free her.

Again, she tried to hit him, managing only a weak wave, her finned and falling on his laps. Arthur gently moved it away, returning to the knots, pushing his chubby fingers inside each of them, pulling until he could feel his hand’s palm and fingertips grow harder from effort.

Each sounds from the sea or birds landing on the sand made him turn around, blinking as he couldn’t trust his eyes entirely under such a strong sun. The next hour was spent running to the sea and coming back, pouring water on the mermaid to hydrate her, seeing her regain some colours after only thirty minutes. The shining blue-green of her tail and scales became almost just as blinding as the sea around them. She stopped fighting, looking up to him with wide blue eyes as he finally untied enough to pull her out of her prison.

The boy had to help her to the water, pulling her as strongly as he could, the mermaid needing to help him as much as she could, invigorated by the water, but not enough to drag her heavy body to the water. It felt weightless in the sea, he had noticed… she must have been feeling even heavier than he thought she was. Contrary to what he thought, once the mermaid was in the water, she didn’t flee right away. She turned to him after drinking a few gulps of salt water, sighing in happiness and relief, rubbing it lightly on the rope burns and bruises, as if it would help. She thanked him – he assumed, it was what it sounded like and she watched him right in the eyes –, her voice now a hundred times more melodious than it had been before, if a little hoarse.

She sat in the water that reached her waist, trustingly letting him do the same. Arthur was _sweating_ , the effort and the harsh sun making his neck burn with what he knew was a sun burn – damn the rest of his family for being redheads and making him so sensitive to sunlight. He stared at her shimmering tail, moving a hand to touch her, looking up to make sure it was fine. She looked at him, a little like his mother would when he asked questions about something she knew. Reassured by the fond look in her eyes, Arthur smiled, petting her shyly, marvelling at the sleek, soft feeling of it, even if he could sense every strong muscles inside it even if it looked every bits like an elegant dancer’s slender legs.

The curious creature let out a little chirp, touching his legs in turn, his feet especially, making him laugh and pull them away. She let out a happy chirp, touching them again, making him glare and pout, which only amused her further. It sounded like she was laughing, patting his head carefully. Arthur could feel her claws against his scalp, yet, her hands were gentle when she touched him.

Dragging herself closer to him, she looked at his eyes, Arthur being unable to help himself but to look down at her naked body, feeling oddly reassured to see her long hair covered her breasts entirely. He looked at her ribs, patting them, as if expecting to find gills there, yet, there were none… and she seemed to be breathing through her mouth and nose. He would have expected a siren to be more like a fish than a human, somehow, even as people told how beautiful they were… but the legends about them eating sailors now seemed tame, compared to what these greedy men had thought to do about her.

Arthur felt her lips on his cheek, turning around only for her to press on to his other cheek, close enough to his lips to make that warm feeling spread inside him again. She giggled, it sounded just like a giggle, looking at her with wide eyes, his chubby cheeks blushing at the attention. No girls had ever kissed him! She smiled again, taking off a necklace from the many collars and jewels she wore to place it on him.

He looked to the medallion, it was heavy on his neck and against his chest. Engraved in it was a compass, pointing to North-East… it looked like it was fancy Spanish gold. The poor boy had never held anything so precious, so expensive… looking back to the mermaid, he asked, “A gift? For me?”

“Ah guiss?” she tried, blinking in confusion.

“Um…” Arthur pointed to her, then to him, “Gift?”

She seemed to understand quickly, nodding happily.

Arthur could feel his heart beat hard… He hadn’t done this for glory or anything, not even to be thanked… but she gave him something that was worth a good fortune and the boy already know that he would cherish it.

He stared at it, marvelling at the way it shone under the sun.

It took only a second for the siren to be gone, as he lifted his eyes again to thank her. He looked for her, wanting to make sure she was fine, running along the shore as he called, expecting someone to answer or for her to surface.

None happened.

.

.

.

“The mizzen’s lost, cap’n! Torn apart!”

Chaos unfurled on the loop’s small decks, pirates running around, trying to charge each cannons they had on larboard to try to hit the massive man o’ war that followed them at turtle pace, but with a terrible accuracy and hundreds of guns to attack them.

“They’re coming! These bastards a’ comin’!”

Arthur ran between barrels of powder and cannonballs. The downpour made it all the more difficult to light the wick. That didn’t seem to be a problem for their opponents, who sent out a salve almost every minutes.

“Shoot ‘em, you rats!” the captain yelled, him and the second mate needing to put on all their weights on the wheel to keep them from straying right into the nearby islands’ cliffs.

A small pirate crew like them had no chances against a gigantic Spanish boat, especially in such a dangerous storm, the boat rocked like it was only made out of paper against the raging ocean. The Caribbean was known for its capricious temperament and Arthur learned to respect it more each passing seconds, holding on his compass necklace hidden under his linen shirt for good luck, covering his ears as the wick finally lit.

“They’re shootin’! Hide!”

With the canon’s detonation and the thunder around them, Arthur never had time to hear his crewmate’s warnings. The cannonball that landed just next to him took his as a surprise, the Brit falling between the splinters of wood, the strength of him hitting the water being just enough to drive a spear-like one through his abdomen making him cry out in pain, swallowing the salty seawater.

He coughed, only managing to swallow even more of it.

It burned his eyes, the sea was dark lest for each time thunder hit the water, lighting his surroundings. He was bleeding out fast, the cold water stabbing every inches of him like tiny knives. Arthur fought against it, unable to swim, his legs tiring in what seemed to be seconds.

Their gunpowder reserves suddenly exploded, the breath of it pushing him down. The last thing he saw was a large fish just over him, its form lit by the fire over them, Arthur sinking without being able to help himself, eyes closing. So this was how his adventure dreams ended. Alone, under the sea…

.

.

.

Arthur awoke groggily, eyes stuck together from just how long he had slept. Wiping his eyes with a shaking hand, the Brit looked around him. He was laying on a bed of dried seaweed and algae, covered by a sheet of linen, which seemed to be… his shirt and his pants. Arthur could have felt timid about being naked, but he was so tired… His side hurt, his memory not quite working to tell him why it was so… slowly, the memory of the attack came back to him, piece by piece.

A Spanish man o’ war.

Their hundreds of canons, against the forty or so of them.

They had shot next to him.

A piece of wood had impaled him.

Arthur looked down to himself, propping himself up on his elbows with difficulties, patting his bandaged stomach with a frown. Who… who had done this? The algae were still wet, clinging to him, braided and holding an odd paste and gauze made out of an odd-looking sponge against the angry-looking wound.

He wondered if locals had somehow found him on the shore, if by any kind of miracle, he had floated to one before dying… but wouldn’t he had been in a hut inside the tropical forest, just uphill? Or had he been captured by Spaniards, camping a few meters away, out of his eyesight, who wanted to bring him to justice? Arthur couldn’t say he minded dying another day, even if it was to either be caged until dehydration would take him, or hung.

None of the options made any sense until a soft croon brought his eyes to his left, pulling him away from his grim reverie. A beautiful woman was leaning over him, her long blonde hair tickling his shoulders, leaving him a wonderful few of her small breasts. Arthur looked back up with a gasp, staring into the woman’s wide… wide blue irises.

Arthur screamed in surprised, mouth open wide, crawling away from instinct, hurting himself in the process, unable to believe what was happening. He could have recognized her from a hundred miles away and now… he felt completely stupid. She scolded him with a gentle sound, placing a finger on his lips.

“Shhh.”

It was her, the siren he had helped during his youth… Arthur couldn’t believe his luck. What were the odds of a nomad mermaid he had helped before being just next to them and finding him in the dark ocean before a shark did. Arthur felt his heart beat hard in his chest, remembering how he had been in love with her during his youth, how, once puberty had hit him, he had wished he could have had kissed her.

She touched the necklace on his neck with a contrite little smile. Arthur was surprised it didn’t slip off when he fell in the water at first. She made a soft sound.

“Guiss,” she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Was this how she had recognized him? She hadn’t changed at all and he had grown so much during only a decade… he didn’t think she’d have known it was him, it ever he had sold or stopped wearing his precious necklace.

“You… you saved me?” he rasped, knowing nobody else could have. Locals would have healed him with leaves and she had used seaweed…

She cocked her head to the side, frowning. Of course she couldn’t understand a word he was saying.

“You,” he pointed to her, “save me,” and then to the calm sea next to them, “me?” And then to himself.

It took her moment, Arthur needing to do it once again, but she eventually understood, smiling, nodding. She had, of course… no one else could have, or would have, Arthur thought, laying a hand on her forearm. She picked it up, wrapping her finned ones around his.

“Thank… thank you.”

She was even more beautiful than he remembered, especially with the full moon shining over her.

.

.

.

His nameless sweetheart turned out to be a wonderful nurse. Arthur wished he could have asked her where she had learned all of this and what undersea medicine looked like, but of course, learning language was a terribly slow process, especially when one’s mouth was used to make completely different sounds. Arthur knew he couldn’t make sounds like she did, but she seemed to be able to replicate his words easily…

No infection ever happened. She changed the bandages twice every days, letting him see how quickly the wound healed. Arthur was surprised he was even alive by now and, trusting her, somehow, even when he found it so hard to do usually, he let it all into her hands.

As the days went by, they slowly understood each other more and more. It took a fair amount of gesticulation to communicate the smallest idea, such as Arthur needing to eat cooked food rather than raw fish but things were getting easier and easier.

“Arthur,” he said, pointing to himself, the mermaid lying against his good side, cuddling him happily as they rested under the warmth of the sun.

“Assur,” she repeated, pointing to the Brit with a giggle.

“No. Ar… Ar… are you teasing me again?” he growled, glaring at her as she laughed.

“Arzur!” she crooned, winking before kissing his cheek.

Oh. If she thought it was going to happen this way… he shut her up with a kiss, surprising her enough to make her peachy cheeks blush, a wonderful, pale-pink colour. Smiling as she recovered too quickly to his liking, she pecked him back softly. Arthur wondered if she was just mocking him more, but she seemed so affectionate, sincere, even…

He didn’t even know her name…

Pointing to himself again, Arthur tried, “Arthur.” Again, to her, “You?”

She blinked, looking at him for a moment before she frowned, looking away. She seemed a little shy.

“Please?” Arthur knew she had understood, even if she looked at him like this. He placed a hand on her lower back, pressing a thumb to one of the dent in her hips – some human women had these too, but it seemed to be more relaxing to his siren when he gently petted it.

She bit her lip, before shyly telling him her name. Yet, the sounds she made were entirely different than those he could have and Arthur felt like a dick for asking. A cold silence fell over them. She had known he wouldn’t be able to say her name and it seemed to pain her. Arthur felt sorry for her, pulling her a little closer, hugging her tight.

Arthur tried to imitate her, but it vain. There was no ways he could have made a clicking sound like she did – he felt like a kitten trying to roar like a lion and it was only laughable.

She brought him back to reality as she patted the necklace on his neck. “Arzur. Guiss!”

“What?”

She showed the necklace, then herself, then him again. Taking it off of him, she placed it back on him. “Ah guiss.”

“A gift?”

She beamed at the word.

“Guiss!” She pointed to him, then her again. “Arzur, guiss.”

Arthur slowly understood, the realization of what she asked quickly dawning upon him. She wanted him to give her a name… or a nickname, he couldn’t ever replace the name she had been given, but at least, a name he could have called her by…

“You want me to give you a name?”

At that, she answered him in that same melodious language, a long sentence he couldn’t understand at all. Arthur was about to scold her when he realized he had just done the same, smiling as he patted her side. Of course, with all these jumbled words she didn’t knew, she couldn’t understand a single word, or what could have been her name.

“Arthur,” he placed his hand on his chest, then placed it on hers. “Muirin.”

He could feel her strong heartbeat under his hand. He remembered the story of a mermaid, called like this… His father had told him something about it, he vaguely remembered. It had all been so long.

Her hand was on his chest too, her cheeks getting just a little pinker at the way his own heart hammered, too. “Arzur.” She laid it on his own, and said, softly, “Muiri’.”

“Yes.”

“’Es…”

.

.

.

Now that he had a name to call her by, it became much easier to communicate. If he felt like a rude asshole each time he called to her before, hailing her like as if she didn’t understand he spoke to her, like she was just a stranger, it felt intimate to call her by the name he had given her. She seemed to love it, even though it was difficult for her to say it. Each days, she learned new words, making their conversation easier and easier.

Arthur had never thought the best days of his life would be brought to him by being almost killed in a shipwreck, but he had to thank those Spanish bastards. Each days, he got to kiss every sailor’s dream, holding her against him like they were husband and wife, in a comfortable, natural nakedness. He couldn’t blame her for tearing his clothes apart to give him a bed to rest on, as he had needed it more than to be covered.

Where most wenches were pudgy, she was hard with lean, hidden muscles, as if to better hide them from predators. They barely showed and yet, Arthur could feel them under his fingertips. She was built just like a diver, strong and sleek… Her breasts were small and soft, almost enough to disappear each time she lifted her arms, but Arthur never mourned the large, comfortable breasts of tavern wenches. They fitted right in his palm, and even with such small mounds, it did nothing to reduce how feminine she looked, with soft features and a thin waist, with larger hips to accommodate her strong tail. Merfolk seemed to show affection in similar ways to human, by hugging and kissing, sharing warmth and cuddling…

And through teasing. Arthur remember his family teasing him mercilessly, seeing how quickly it angered him and Muirin had understood it almost faster than she had understood her nickname.

She had realized he liked lobster. So she called him a lobster. Either in her language or his.

One day, he’d get his revenge.

Once he’d had found a nickname that she take with happiness.

He’d get her, someday. He would.

.

.

.

Muirin’s lips were soft against his, her hips had two small dents where he could fit his thumbs just right… He was healed now, the scars pink and fresh, but that didn’t stop her from worrying, perhaps to keep him close to her a little more. Arthur wondered why she wasn’t with her kind, sometimes, guessing she had been chased, banished… or else, why would she stay there? They were attached to each others, now, however, and both seemed to want nothing but to keep the other close…

Her breasts were the perfect fit for his hands, just small enough for him to massage them, plucking them to make her cry out. They were sensitives, just like any wench’s, drawing out wonderful little noises from her. Arthur loved how satisfied she looked each time she touched him. Arthur wasn’t very muscular by any means, but he had some and if she liked it… then, he felt like he wasn’t too bad, after all.

Arthur had bedded a few tavern wenches when they were in towns, yet he had never felt so attracted to anyone like he was to Muirin. When he laid over her, he felt as if the sand beneath them was softer than any inn bed and her body was more beautiful than any riches he could have found by sailing and pillaging. He understood now why each times he chose with who he’d want to spend the night, he’d always pick a lovely blonde, as his fingers searched her body for any sensitive spot, eventually finding her wetness, opening over her tail once she was aroused enough, not too far from where a woman’s legs would have parted.

She was noisy as he touched her there and he loved it, drinking her moans hungrily, thirsty for her and every little things she did. She twitched, her tail wriggled. His thumb found her clit to toy with it slowly, rubbing it to make her cry out even more, her hand fondling his hardness to make him produce noises she seemed to love so much.

She offered herself to him without a doubt, letting her sink inside her with a soft gasp, claws dragging across his back, marking him as hers. Her body seemed to be just like a woman’s inside there, Arthur thrusting inside her slowly, finding a pace as her wet, wonderful heat wrapped all around him.

“I love you… love you,” he mouthed against her collarbone, kissing her slender neck fervently, as if he was adoring an ancient idol, holding her against him as she did the same.

“Love you… love you,” she repeated, looking into his eyes, taking his face between her hands to kiss him tenderly, mouth opening to let his tongue inside. As they parted, Arthur wondered if she under stood what it meant, only for her to say it again, caressing his cheek, this time, “Love you… Arzur, love you…”

And it was all he needed.

.

.

.

The island of Jamaica had dozens of small bays around it and Arthur had chosen the most recluse he had found to build his house, right next to the warm, white sand. It was surrounded by the cliffs and trees, with an entrance too small to let a boat bigger than his small ship go through the rocky waves.

He had left his pirate life behind some time ago, once he had had enough money to build a coquette cottage, not unlike the one his parents had. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen, an outside terrace to rest under the island’s wonderful sun… It was just enough for him, seeing how he usually was on the sea, trading goods as a successful merchant ship’s captain. It was enough adventure to sail between the islands of the English properties for him now, and even just that worried his lover sick.

Taking his shoes and shirt off, Arthur stepped inside the water, feeling the foam of the waves tickle his feet. The salty smell of the sea made him sigh in happiness. It had been weeks since he had been on his favourite bay and Arthur felt like home as soon as he felt the breeze.

He dashed to jump inside it.

He had never learned to swim, but he knew there was nothing to worry about. Arthur didn’t even have time to hold his breath as he plunged underwater, as someone pulled him out of it with an annoyed sigh.

“You are _such_ a reckless little lobster,” she said, her voice fonder than it had any bite.

“Muirin,” he said, kissing her to keep from saying anything else. “I’ve missed you.”

“I could have thought you’d never come back,” she said, pouting. It was too dangerous for another sailor to see her. Arthur hated it too, but he wanted her to be safe above all. They were happy each time they could be together, hidden by the cliffs as she swam them back to shore, trapping him under her as she kissed him once again.

“But I’m back.”

“And it’s all I’ll ever need,” she said, her kind, gentle hands holding his face as she kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Maaaan this is so cheesy.
> 
> Sorry it’s a bit late, I had bit of an unplanned breakdown so I couldn’t type D:
> 
> Sorry! But hey it’s done! Hope u guys liked it. I’ll do the next one before midnight. uwu


End file.
